


if it means a lot to you

by orphan_account



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:28:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Some bittersweet ficlet dump for my Moto3/2/GP boys. More to be added soon!Chapters:1. Vale/Pecco, Luca & Pecco (M, NONCON! feel free to skip)2. Jorge Martin/Marco Bezzecchi, Fabio Di Giannantonio (T, heart to heart post-Valencia)





	1. turn that frown upside down (and it all breaks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adulthood is the breaking point where everything you used to believe in has changed beyond recognition.
> 
> (or: Vale, Luca, and the rites of initiation when Pecco graduates to MotoGP.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: NONCON (this chapter only)

"I'm so proud of you," Valentino hums, fingers and lips exploring uncharted territory. He licks on soft, toned stomach. "We've gotta celebrate your championship properly, yeah?"

Pecco struggles to pull himself away from Vale's touch, pinned down by the older man's weight. He throws his head back when Vale's fingers find their way inside him, eyes shut and moans spilling out without his will. It's easier to shut the sensations down when he doesn't have to look at what he's forced to feel, Pecco thinks. He tries to ignore the disturbing jolts of arousal prickling his skin whenever Vale touches him just _exactly_ where he's sensitive - a knowledge only acquired by a master who knows his protegés beyond what is moral. 

Pecco opens his eyes to distract himself, but the spiralling void in his chest only constricts further when he spots another pair of blue eyes staring at him in hurt and helplessness.

Vale chuckles as he slips a third finger inside. "Look at him, Luca." He twists his fingers, letting out a vicious laugh when Pecco jerks at the sensation, biting his lips hard to not give Vale the satisfaction. "So beautiful, like all my boys are," he taunts, eyes locked on Luca's fearful ones as he bites from Pecco's neck down to his nipple. "He deserves a proper farewell, don't you think? My champion, going to MotoGP. You should send him off too, Luca." 

The sight of Luca's growing impatience amuses Vale, especially how his brother wriggles against the ropes tying his hands. Luca will need the patience. For now, he'll watch and learn how to celebrate his teammate's championship properly.

When Vale thrusts into Pecco, Luca doesn't know whose scream was louder. All he can remember is his pained throat when he screamed _stop_ and nothing happened, not his voice and certainly Vale does not stop either. Vale impales like a king invading new land, until he leaves Pecco crying on the sofa and Luca burning with desperation to piece his teammate back together. Instead, he's bound to his spectator seat to watch the beginning of Pecco's initiation into ruin.

What Vale owns, Vale takes - Luca knows Pecco will not be the last.


	2. you be you, and i'll be me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valencia, last time as Moto3 riders, and unspoken feelings between the top three.

"Why are you still staring at him?" Fabio's voice almost fails to hide his annoyance. "Come on Jorge, let's go. We've got two championships to celebrate."

Jorge hesitates, but he can't do much when Fabio loops his arm around him and pulls him to the Del Conca garage. Still, his hazel eyes wander around the track, searching for a face. His shoulder slumps when he realizes that the person is gone already, leaving only his presence and flashes of a disappointed face. 

The ache in Jorge's chest upon seeing _him_ be so sullen in P20 tempers the sweetness of his own podium. Jorge believes has seen every part of _him_ the season could offer: the bright grin on the podium, the helpless gloom after crashing, the flaming determination whenever they race together, and his mischievous smile that made Jorge's heart miss a beat every time they talk. It pains Jorge that he had to see that person look so crushed in Valencia - their final race as Moto3 riders.

Jorge celebrates anyway, immersing himself in the team's jubilations as real as he could. Once it all ends, he politely excuses himself to the hotel rooftop, hoping no one would question him. Jorge runs up the staircase with a thundering heart, and only lets out his breath once he's sure he's alone.

Jorge takes out his phone, briefly debating whether or not to call. Would he pick up a call from his own rival? He talked to Fabio about it, but his teammate always seems oddly agitated when he mentions _him_. Jorge doesn't expect Fabio to understand, though. So he calls anyway.

The phone rings thrice before it connects. "Hello?" The other voice replies, ragged from sleep and perhaps a bit too much crying.

Jorge gulps. Every word feels wrong if you feel that someone's crying partly because of you. "Marco? Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Jorge pictures Marco scrunching his nose in brief confusion. "Oh, the results? I'm okay. It kinda hurts to end up third, but yeah, I'm already over it."

"I-" Jorge feels like there's nothing he would say that would make Marco feel better about his championship run. He tries, but Marco cuts him off.

"I'm surprised you called," Marco speaks. "I thought you were celebrating with your team?"

"I need to talk to you," Jorge confesses, somehow. The desire to hear Marco's voice was like a secret himself. "You know, just to leave nothing unsaid between us."

Marco's chuckle is small, but it cheers Jorge up to hear Marco slowly getting better as well. "You sure you'll be safe talking there? Fabio would be mad if he knows you're talking to me."

There's a certain softness to the way Marco phrases it, and Jorge can't help but smile. "I can manage my own teammate, thank you."

"Yeah right, I'm not sure you've realized how Fabio stares at your ass 24/7." Marco raises an eyebrow when he listens to Jorge squeak, and he could almost see him turning bright red. "What, you didn't know? That kid's been hopeless for you since you became teammates. Don't ask me how I found out."

"Oh." Everything falls into place now. Jorge pieces the puzzle from Qatar to Valencia - Fabio's slight stutter when they converse, his annoyance every time he talks to Marco when they officially became championship rivals, how he looked like a kid struck by thunder when Jorge came late to their hotel room because he was watching the stars with Marco in Philip Island. Guilt begins to weigh in his stomach. "I never realized...I must have hurt him a lot."

"You're too nice, Jorge. Fabio can deal with himself," Marco tuts, though his voice is full of affection. "I can't believe we're going to be away from each other for like, 2 months? It feels weird when I see you guys everyday for almost an entire year, and then you'll be gone after tests are done."

"It does," Jorge replies. He lets the call briefly settle into silence, running out of words. It calms him to find that Marco waits for him to speak. "I feel that there's so many things I need to tell you." 

Marco stays patient. "Then take your time."

Jorge lets it all out, a torrent of consoling words and gratitude for having such an amazing rival and friend. Beneath it all, Jorge keeps a certain _I really like you_ sealed in his own lips. He doesn't know when to say it, not yet - perhaps in the gala when all the dust is settled. He's sure Marco would look amazing in a suit. 

"Thanks for everything," Marco sounds like his smile has returned. "I mean it. See you in the gala?"

"Yes." Jorge briefly thinks if it's another missed opportunity, but his heart assures him well. They'd be more prepared then rather than now - Jorge has already began writing his love letter for the gala. "See you there."


End file.
